"Uh, m'lord," Shea hazarded, "it really ought to be mixed with water, twenty to one. This stuff will lay a Cyclops out flat." The two aristocrats paid him no heed. Anchises took a healthy belt. A moment later his eyes bugged half out of his head and his face turned scarlet. He gasped for a few seconds, then spoke.
"Whooooooeeeee! That's sonic hooch!" Everybody cheered and clapped, already hall-drunk from the fumes alone.
"Make up a bowl with twenty measures of water and one of the new wine," Aeneas yelled, "so that all may have some. First, though, fill me a cup of the straight goods!" Chalmers did so, and Aeneas knocked back a slug. When his eyes refocussed he clapped Chalmers on the shoulder.
"Boys," said the hero, "not only have you capped my banquet in rare style, but you've risen in my estimation as well. From now on, you're off pitch-boiling duty. I'm making you wine stewards for the fleet, with all the honors due that noble station."
Within minutes, the whole crowd was blissfully plastered. Amazingly, there was not a mean drunk in the lot. All were singing and romping around and carrying on, as if they had been robbed of all care and all rancor.
"Well, you did it," Shea said. "But let's lay off the stuff until they're all safely out."
"Agreed," said Chalmers. "And I think we had better content ourselves with the diluted wine. It's even more potent than advertised."
Within an hour, the whole company was on the sand, snoring in unison. Shea and Chalmers each dipped a bowl, clicked cups in toast, and took a drink.
It was like concentrated delight, what the gods would drink if the gods were committed winos. It made Chateau Mouton Rothschild taste like Dago Red.
"I can't believe Aeneas and his father could drink it straight and live," Shea said.
"Heroic appetites are notorious,' Chalmers explained. They took another sip.
"Ah, Doc, is this stuff supposed to be hallucinogenic as well?"
"Not that I had heard. Why?"
"Because there's a guy made of gold and about twenty feet high standing over there by the ship we were caulking today."
"Uh-oh." Slowly, Chalmers turned to look. The man, if that was what he was, strode toward them. When he was near they came to just above his knee caps and had to squint their eyes against his brightness. His beautiful, terrible face glared down at them. He was not happy.
"Mortal fools! Know you who I am?"
"We ..." Chalmers began.
"I", the huge golden man said, cutting him off, "am Phoebus Apollo, Silverbow, Shootafar, Apollo of the Golden Locks, solar deity extraordinaire!"
"Lord Apollo," Chalmers cried, "what have we, poor wretched mortals that we are, done to anger you?"
Apollo bent low and hissed. "What have you done? You don't know? You miserable, impious, blaspheming bootlegger!"
"I, ah, don't understand," Chalmers said.
"We intended no disrespect, sir," Shea assured him.
"You think that excuses you?" His expression grew thunderous. "You just came in here and usurped the sacred wine of Apollo, and you expect to get off easy? You should have known better than to invoke my name, mortal! That brought me all the way from Ethiopia to witness your sacrilege."
"Hey, we were just trying to keep the party going," Shea protested.
"Silence!" He gave them an evil grin. "You know what happens to mortals who mess with me? Ever hear of Niobe? My sister Diana and I killed her six sons and six daughters. Shot them dead! I guess you've heard of Marsyas, that satyr who said he was a better musician than Apollo?"
"I'm not sure," Shea said weakly while Chalmers just looked pale.
"I skinned that bastard alive!" He chuckled sadistically. "I'm going to have to think up something really bad for you two. I'll teach you to mess with Phoebus Apollo!'
"But, but we didn't ...
"Oh, shut up, you little worm. While I'm thinking this over, I want you to think it over. Anticipation is half the fun. I'll be seeing you, mortals, just when you toast expect it!" There was a sudden, gusting whirlwind, and Apollo, to their unutterable relief, was gone.
"Now we're in for it," Shea groaned. "Just when things were looking up!"
"Well," Chalmers said weakly, "it might have been worse."
"How?"
"How? My dear Harold, Apollo is one of the nicer gods!"
The morning of the fleet's departure dawned clear and sparkling. Aeneas made his last-minute arrangements, assigning crews to the fleet that had now grown to twenty ships. He took Shea and Chalmers to a vessel that was wider and deeper-bellied than the others.
"This is the fleet's wine ship," Aeneas explained. "It is commanded by my friend, Achates. Ah, here is the master now."
By the stem of the vessel stood a man who was taller than most, but not so tall as Aeneas: about six foot five by Shea's estimation. This classed him as a noble warrior, but not quite of hero rank. There were a number of them with the fleet. Shea had dubbed them heroids.
"Brave Achates!" Aeneas called.
"Noble Lord Aeneas!" Achates said, grinning obsequiously and displaying a small gap between his front teeth. Next to him a plump lady sat on a bale of wool, doing needlework. "How may I serve my lord?"
"Achates, these men shall sail in your vessel. They will keep our wine from souring. It is an important duty, and they are to have no others during the voyage."
"Absolutely, my lord. I shall care for them as if they were my own children. A warm berth and a soft life, that's what it shall be, my lord. Anything else? If he had a tail, Shea thought, it would be wagging.
"That suits me excellently. I place much trust in you. Achates. Half an army's or a fleet's morale lies in the quantity and quality of its wine.
"My lord does me too much honor." He grinned and bowed at the same time.
"My ship goes first," Aeneas said. "The others launch immediately after. A good voyage to you." He turned and strode away.
"I shall not fail von, Lord Aeneas."
Achates straightened up to his full height. Then he glared at the new additions to his crew.
"Oh, this is just what I need! Not bad enough I get the bloody wine ship, but I'm saddled with a couple of layabout foreigners with nothing to do but taste the wine From time to time! Well, I ought to be used to this sort of treatment by now, always 'Achates, fetch my spear' and 'Achates, see if the bulls to be sacrificed are without blemish' and 'Achates, take charge of the wine ship.' Now I ask you: Is that any way to treat a bloody hero? No, it is not!" His half-hysterical rant ceased abruptly and he looked down at the lady who sat next to him. "Isn't that right, dear?"
She paid him no attention, but set her embroidery hoop aside and smiled engagingly. "So you two will be sailing with us? How nice. I'm sure we'll get along famously. I'm Mrs. Achates, but just call me Harmonia."
"Charmed," Chalmers said, taking her hand and kissing it. Achates turned his face aside and made a disgusted sound.
"Where do you want us to stow our belongings?" Shea asked, pro forma since they had almost nothing to stow.
"Let's go find you berths," Harmonia said, standing. She was only a little taller than Shea and Chalmers.
"Listen, you lot," Achates said. "I am in charge of this ship!" He punched a forefinger against his bronze-sheathed sternum.
"Yes, love," Harmonia said, not glancing at him. "Now, come aboard, you two. I'm afraid it's going to be awfully crowded for a while." Achates wandered off to bark at some slaves toiling at last-minute sailing preparations. Shea and Chalmers followed the woman up the rickety gangplank.
"Let's see, now," she surveyed the little ship, "his lordship and I have the little hut at the stem, and the slaves will sleep among the amphorae, but nobody has that little decked area up at the bow. Will that suit you?"